Decaying Dreams
by smiletothesun
Summary: "She trusted me, trusted me with her life, and I failed her, she's far from heavy, I thought I could do a simple lift with her, and apparently I can screw up on that too." Future Jelsa, Olympic figure skater AU


I was in shock, today was actually here. Today, 2018, I was in Peyong Chang, South Korea, representing Canada, with my best friend, Jack Frost. I was so excited; I had trained my whole entire life for this moment, well entirely. I did have a life outside the rink, and that was Jack. He's my only family now, and he's all I need. Speaking of the devil, I think as I see him approach me; it's hard to mistake him in his eye-popping red jacket. As he approaches I take in all his details, the fine, imperfect ones that make him himself. Unlike the other guys here, Jack wasn't extensively muscled, but instead one of the lighter, swifter, leaner ones. He was also easy to spot because of his abnormally pale skin, even paler than mine, with a slight bluish tint, if I do say so myself, and his mop of snow-white hair. "Hey, Snowflake, are you excited?" His voice was calm, but I know he's excited; his bright, and yet strangely dark blue, eyes are filled with excitement and his shines are the same large, circular, shape as the spotlight, as they glide past us. I'm so excited I don't even watch the couple, nor care what score they were going to get. I look up as they couple receives a disappointing 32.4; they must've made a lot of mistakes, and probably with a bad or easy routine too. But not me and Jack, I think, our routine is hard and complex, but not one that we can't do, we've been practicing so hard, and gotten it perfect more than enough times to almost guarantee a great score. As for the whole 'Snowflake' nickname, it's sort of our thing, he stared nick naming me that when we were in elementary school one day when he caught me drawing snowflakes on the back of my finished worksheet. I look up at the score boards, "Canada" reads a bright red, with a Canadian flag next to it, in the first slot, and not a second later does a male's voice come on. "Next skating for us we have Elsa Arendelle and Jackson Overland Frost, from Canada" The voice then repeated it in Korean, for the Korean people, and Jack took off his red jacket, revealing a handsome outfit underneath. Jack always feels self conscious about wearing male's figure skating clothes, so I usually let him choose his outfit, and then match mine to his. Today he is wearing a navy blue outfit, with silver trim and ice blue highlights, such as his collar. My outfit matches, but features more ice blue than navy, with a sheer cloth covering my arms with intricate silver patterns it then leads down to the sparkly, sequined body of the outfit, and a darker blue skirt, with white translucent tights. My long platinum hair is in a french braid and my unruly blonde bangs are losely brushed back. My heart beats fast as I slip onto the ice, hand in hand with Jack, and get into our starting position. As the music starts, I slip easily around the rink with Jack, gradually gaining speed to do some jumps, and to start to skate backwards. Every thing was going perfect, and from the corner of my eyes I can see people staring with awe at me and Jack's apparent fluidity and exact synchronization with each other, and then I feel them, strong, and sturdy, close around my petite waist. I brace my self and move with him, and then he goes, and I follow, my arms spreading out like swan's wings, and my legs brace for the impact. Jack may not be as strong, in terms of upper body strength, but he doesn't need to be. I have a skinny waist, and am not that heavy, so the throws and lifts work easily for both of us. That's when it comes back to me, of all times. My worst fear and nightmare. It happened a long time ago, and I was young. It was the middle of the night, in Norway, where I previously lived, and my little sister, Anna, was begging me to go and skate with her. I had been figure skating most my life, and my little sister Anna was fascinated with it. I would never say no, never knew when to say "stop," and because of it I almost killed my sister, and my family disowned me. So of course, I said yes, and we snuck out to the frozen pond behind my house, and yes, behind my house in Norway, there was a pond, which was frozen most of the year, that my family and I loved to skate on. We were just playing, I ment no harm, I was trying to show Anna some of the new moves I'd recently learned, including a dangerous lift, the same life I didn't even realize Jack and I were about to do. I lifted Anna, and slipped, and she fell, and hit her head on the ice. I never truly forgave myself for that, and Anna got amnesia, all of a sudden I was snapped out of my thoughts as those hands wrapped around my waist, and I realize I had been daydreaming, stuck in my trance. I smiled at Jack's concerned face, and gently nodded. He pulled me up, and soon I had a magnificent view of the whole stadium, and all my fears were all released. It happened in slow motion, he wobbled, so slightly you wouldn't even notice, and I couldn't look down, and then it happened. He slipped in the bend, and my hands which were clasped to his, the only thing supporting my weight, as my legs were spread out behind me, were not available to catch me, I was violently thrown from him, and slowly crashed into the cold, unforgiving ice. My head hit first, sending sharp pain up my whole body, like a wave, disorientating me, nauseating me, and sending large black dots and tendrils throught my vision, then my shoulders, which were minor in comparison to my head, and finally e rest of my body slammed into the rink. I could hear the people gasp, and some scream, and I could taste blood in my mouth, and a hot, sticky, liquid down my face and cheeks, one I assume is blood. The last thing I am conscious for is a gentle yet strong hand, Jack's, wrap around my shoulder, and then his words. "Please be okay, Elsa! I didn't mean it, I didn't mean to drop you, I slipped, and it was an accident! Please don't leave me over an accident." He begs, and ends on a quiet whisper, whimper-like sound. I try to say, I would never leave you, and this isn't your fault, but I can't do anything, and the smell and taste of blood overwhelms me, and I unwillingly surrender to the darkness. 


End file.
